


Three Times Denied

by crna_macka



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crna_macka/pseuds/crna_macka
Summary: Wynonna’s brow is furrowed. She’s confused and still suspicious. “Great. That’s great.” She pauses, remembering. “No, that’s not great. You, looking at me like that, that’s not great.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> More Plastic Dinosaurs AU, immediately following [this scene](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7211000/chapters/20056354). Per Beagles' request. :)

Wynonna corners Nicole in an upstairs hallway when Waverly is getting ready for bed. The borrowed sweater Wynonna wears hangs too big on her narrow frame, making her appear deceptively small and weak - completely contrary to the way she wrenches Nicole out of sight and pushes her with one hand up against the wall. Nicole knows this about the other woman already, but in the moment, her brain seems particularly fascinated with the dichotomy. It’s better than focusing on Wynonna’s proximity and the heat of her low hiss.

“ _What_ was that? What’s wrong with you?”

Nicole’s hands are already up, empty and innocent, as she fumbles for a response. “I d-- What’s wrong with _you_?”

Wynonna straightens, a posture that unintentionally gives Nicole more space. “I’m behaving. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“ _Yes_. I mean no, yes, I don’t - you’re doing great. The girls love you.”

Wynonna’s brow is furrowed. She’s confused and still suspicious. “Great. That’s great.” She pauses, remembering. “No, that’s not great. _You_ , looking at me like _that_ , that’s not great.”

Nicole swallows. And lies. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Right,” Wynonna says. Her mouth presses into a thin line of disapproval as she shoves again. Nicole’s gaze moves quickly back up to her eyes.

“I was just waking up,” she concedes. When Wynonna lets up the pressure, Nicole looks away and adds quietly: “I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Although none of them have the right waterproof gear, Nicole and the Earps join the family outside after a fresh layer of snow falls. Nicole and Waverly together try to convince the kids to work on building a fort with them, but the whole thing is dashed to hell when the first snowballs fly between Wynonna and Haley. It’s downright trampled when the girls join in, and Waverly isn’t far behind. “All that pent up Earp aggression,” Nicole teases, only to find herself ganged up on for a very cold twenty-minute assault.

The snowball fight peters out the way such things do, with children losing interest, shivering adults heading back inside, and Nicole hiding in the girls’ tree house. Wynonna and Waverly both heckle her from below, and when she challenges them to make her come down, Waverly folds her arms over her chest and doesn’t budge.

“It’s not sturdy enough for even _one_ adult,” she insists. Nicole peeks out, catching sight of the way Waverly shrugs her sister off when Wynonna tells her something too quiet for Nicole to hear. Wynonna frowns, but she relents when Waverly mutters something and turns to stalk toward the front yard where the kids still play.

Nicole feels awkward and childish and confused, trying to decide whether she should start coming down when Wynonna hauls herself through the hole in the floor where the ladder ends.

“Well this is cozy,” she says, apparently genuinely impressed - if a bit subdued.

“What just happened?” Nicole blurts out. There aren’t enough pieces to put together Waverly’s behavior. Fortunately, Wynonna is at least marginally forthcoming as she scoots further into the small room.

“Nothing personal. Tree houses. Heights. Waves being Waves.”

“Do I need to apologize?”

Wynonna raises an eyebrow and shrugs, looking mystified and a little guilty herself. “You’d know better than me. I never know when I’m supposed to do that stuff.”

Nicole is too distracted to take the easy jab at the opening Wynonna gave her, and a knee nudges against her own to pull her out of her head. “Seriously. Can’t blame yourself for our shitty childhoods.”

“No,” Nicole starts to agree. When she shifts away from the window, there’s a moment where she’s unbalanced, catches herself with a hand on Wynonna’s thigh, finds herself a little too close and face to face with the other woman. She jerks her hand away as if burned and exhales from a safer distance. “I get that. No.”

 

* * *

 

It’s deja vu: Waverly pressed warm and sleeping against her side, the couch empty across the room, the pale morning light and quiet throughout the house... but the smell of coffee. Nicole follows her nose to the kitchen, the half-empty carafe sitting on the stone next to an empty mug.

She knows an invitation when she sees one.

After checking a couple of empty rooms she spots the unlocked door, grabs a blanket from one of the couches, and steps out onto the porch. Wynonna doesn’t look up; she looks away instead. When Nicole settles on the other side of the swing, Wynonna gives her that weak, wry smile that lets her know things are about to get personal. But she takes a sip of her coffee before saying anything.

“You have a problem.”

Nicole snorts in surprise and nearly spills her own drink. “ _I_ have a--” She stops herself. Chokes on it. That denial. After all, she’s known for a while that it’s true. “It’s not...” she tries again. Her nose stings with the cold.

In the steam from her mug, there’s a flash of memory. A conversation with Haley, which was echoed again yesterday.

“I don’t get it,” Wynonna says. “You and Waverly?” She gestures jerkily, trying to hold something that isn’t there as her voice cracks. “And instead - you’re looking at this shit instead?”

“Stop it!” Nicole pleads. She wants to head this off, keep the self-loathing to herself without triggering Wynonna’s. That’s too slippery of a slope for the both of them. Shaking hands set her mug on solid ground, ignoring the liquid that sloshes at the sharp movement. “Christ, that’s not who you _are_ , Nonna. You can talk shit about yourself all you want. None of it is true. We’re not in Purgatory, so stop dragging it around with you!”

“It’s where we _live_ ,” Wynonna snaps back, warming to this topic much more quickly. “It’s where you and I live. It’s where Waverly and I _grew up_. Everyone, _anyone_ in our lives can tell you I’m the one that gets fucked up.”

“ _My_ family doesn’t think that. Like it or not, you guys are part of our lives now.” Nicole looks up to meet Wynonna’s watery eyes. “And we’re part of yours. My nieces _adore_ you. I’m pretty sure you know that. It’s why you keep coming along on these trips, isn’t it?”

The corner of Wynonna’s mouth quirks, maybe upward, but not for long. “Yeah, real smart. Bond with the sister’s girlfriend’s sister’s kids. That won’t end poorly.”

“No one said anything about it ending,” Nicole says firmly. “I won’t let that happen. Haley would never forgive me.”

Wynonna’s jaw clenches stubbornly against tears, so Nicole shifts closer and keeps talking. “They always ask about you. Haley says you’re so good with them, and you _are_. Sure you’re tough as nails back in Purgatory, no one would guess it just takes a couple of munchkins to make you melt. And they’re my family - you can’t blame me for loving the way you are with them.”

Wynonna huffs in half-forced amusement then sniffs wetly. “This was a bad idea. All this talking.”

Nicole rises from the swing and resettles the blanket over her shoulders. “Let’s just... go in, where it’s warm.”

Wynonna unfolds, too, stiff and shivering when she’s on her feet. She stoops for her own empty mug, and when she straightens, Nicole brushes her cheekbones dry with one corner of the makeshift shawl.

“That isn’t helping,” Wynonna mumbles after a moment. Her shoulder gives against Nicole’s as she brushes past to the door.

Nicole suppresses a sigh and waits, not wanting to follow too close behind. She’ll figure this out; just give it time.

 

* * *

  
Wynonna isn’t much of a cook, but - she claims - pancakes don’t require much skill, right? Nicole mostly stays out of the way, wanting to see how this plays out, but she eventually sneaks through Wynonna’s haphazard beeline connecting the counter to the table to the stove and posts up at the sink to wash and dry dishes.

The girls are thoroughly enjoying this, giggling over their syrup-laden plates and the fact that they’ve somehow located the powdered sugar. Nicole might not have kids of her own, but she knows a ticking bomb when she sees it. She swoops past Wynonna to the table and the other woman barely dodges a full-on collision, but the resulting mess is minor compared to what might happen if the kids are left to their own devices.

“Alright,” Nicole announces - as authoritatively as she can with batter sloshed down the leg of her sweats - and scoops up the powder-filled canister to tuck it safely under her arm. “Everyone under the age of twenty, go make yourselves presentable before your parents get down here. Hop, hop!”

She looks sidelong at Wynonna to make sure she’s not going to get cheeky and slip out too. Her nieces whine and drag their feet, but they’re giggling by the time they’re out of sight. Nicole deposits the disarmed sugar bomb atop the refrigerator.

“Nicely done with the crowd control, deputy,” Wynonna congratulates her. “You got a little something on your...” She looks pointedly at Nicole’s thigh and clears her throat exaggeratedly.

“Uh huh,” Nicole mutters, assessing the damage. “Guess there’s only one thing to do.”

She always wears shorts under her sweats during the winter, but apparently the thought hadn’t occurred to Wynonna. She claps a hand swiftly over her eyes as Nicole nonchalantly peels off the top layer, smirking at the other woman’s response. “Is that _modesty_ , Earp?”

Wynonna peeks between her fingers and, finding Nicole decidedly not down to her underwear, drops her hand. “I have heaps of it. And also dignity. And--”

Nicole’s balled up sweats fly at her, and although Wynonna _does_ completely dodge this time, it’s not without its cost on the slippery tile floor. “Whoa!”

Nicole can’t help that she laughs as she darts forward to help, and maybe that’s why she ends up falling as well, landing half on top and half her weight on one knee, stopping her from slipping further.

“Dignity?” she huffs in mock-annoyance.

Wynonna tugs. Maybe in an effort to finish pulling her completely off-balance, but serving only to draw Nicole closer. Close enough that their noses touch. Their breath mingles. And Nicole, not thinking, parts her lips and presses them to Wynonna’s.

And she could swear, Wynonna holds on tighter.


End file.
